


haunted

by bvrnie



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex, Smut, anyways imagine the right prophecy got followed...., anyways love u please read this and love me i'm sorry i'm bad with tagging kms, everyone who has to read this and my tags: well... JUST AS I THOUGHT... TRASH, i'm ignoring show canon and we're plowing straight through that bs, imagine if asos was actually included in the show, jaime says fuck a cersei and that's that on that, these two are the death of me, this fic is better than season eight prove me wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 18:36:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18878914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bvrnie/pseuds/bvrnie
Summary: Winter winds absently blow against the window, an ambient sound lulling Jaime Lannister to rest.





	haunted

**Author's Note:**

> well hello. 
> 
> i love jaime lannister so much and yes, i am a clown, and want him to live. so i wrote this where he does live, canon is dead. 
> 
> i hope you like this, it is unbeta'd because i live on the edge ( of being a dumb ass ). 
> 
> anyways ily all bye

Winter winds absently blow against the window, an ambient sound lulling Jaime Lannister to rest. The stillness brings peace of mind, like a library sitting untouched as dust gathers in the sunlight. There was something carefree in watching things go by; the waves crashing along the sea, the sun making a path across the sky, the movement of a deer in the middle of the woods. In the dark, none of these had relevance, but the passing felt the same. Comfort perhaps stems from nothing, from the lack of reaction. He basks in the relaxation, coveting it when he feels he can.

 

A breath, a sound -- taking shape across the floors, toward him, lurking in the shadows like a beast. It bares its teeth, sound crawling across his skin like the blade of a knife. Gooseflesh rises on his arms, he suddenly feels the cold that stretches along with winter. It reminds him of dread, the similarity nearly uncanny. Panic surrounds him, the space turning from comforting darkness to blind anxiety. Stalking, growling, _preying_.

 

Something is whispered and Jaime wants to ask, _what?_ But his mouth does not move, his tongue ties a knot and he swallows it, lodged in his throat.

 

_Jaime_ , the shadow whispers, and the anxiety in him boils, hairs rising to attention. It comes closer, looming over him, reaching and consuming him into turmoil. The syllables slither up his spine, the musical way it attempts to be, yet a harp out of tune. _Jaime_ , it whispers again, and then he feels the grip. The drag of fingers up his arms, a sudden warmth at his throat, anticipation stabbing his gut with dread, and he wants to scream -- wants to fight, yet he can't move, can't speak. He smells summer wine and perfume and feels expensive dresses between his fingertips. He wants to lean away, to escape it, yet the only thing he can perceive is darkness.

 

How does one escape an enemy he cannot see?

 

_Jaime_ , it hisses, he feels the blade at his throat, feels his sister's sinister smile against his jaw, and he thinks that she finally got what she wanted. Hateful to her last breath, the passion for death could only come from someone as mad as Cersei.

 

He startles awake, a low light coming in from the window that tells him that it's nearly dusk. The sun will be rising soon, for how little it does show its face, and the stones are painted in a soft gray. Sweat gathers at Jaime's brow, and he sits up, taking a deep breath as he measures his heartbeats against his rib cage one by one.

 

' You've been having bad dreams lately, ' The words are said along his spine, warmth following up to the back of his neck. It's welcomed, burning the cold out of Jaime's bones and he cannot help his immediate relaxation. Had it been any one else but Brienne of Tarth, Jaime would have lied about such dreams. Maybe even made a quiet joke or two to sell the facade. But Brienne knows him the way no one else has, reads him without having to dig. He feels more vulnerable than usual in the dim light, so Jaime makes no move to deny her claim.

 

' I didn't mean to wake you, ' It catches a little in his chest, and he moves to absently run his fingers along his skin where his gold hand is missing. The guilt nags at him, digging its claws into his stomach. Endlessly broken as always, at least he was consistent in that category. A beat of silence. 

 

' Jaime, ' Brienne murmurs quietly, beneath his ear.

 

' Yes, my lady? ' Jaime's mind feels half gone, half in another place -- another time.

 

' Come back to bed, ' The paranoia seeping at the edge demands he do otherwise; to get up and pace, or perhaps scream and claw at his skin. His mind nearly wins the battle, nerves tingling with the urge to stand. Fingers trace the bottom of his spine, and like a candle lit against the overwhelming darkness, it pulls him. Jaime moves without thinking, lying back in bed, and turning to face Brienne.

 

She looks like moonlight, pale and warm and strong. Her eyes are bright even when it's barely light enough to see, bluer than all the seas combined. Jaime feels his heart squeeze and skip at just the sight of her, a face that is so dear and precious to him that he rode across the Seven Kingdoms for it. Any remembrance of Cersei disappears, as if Brienne sucks the poisons from his wounds. The side of her mouth twitches up a bit, and his mirrors the gesture.

 

' It's alright, you know, ' Her tone is reproachful, careful, setting her trap and allowing Jaime to understand what direction she's leading them in. His spine stiffens a bit, on edge of how she continues, ' if you miss her. '

 

' I don't, ' It rushes out faster than Jaime can stop it, and once he speaks the words, he realizes it to be the truth. Jaime does not miss Cersei, but it doesn't mean that his mind does not remember what has happened. The history is long, dark, twisted together like knotted roots of a decaying tree. Cersei, even from the grave, attempts to rot his heart out. Yet, like the sun, Brienne holds him -- _grows him_ into the man he can be. They lock eyes, and Jaime holds hers, leaning a bit closer.

 

He expects her to speak, but Brienne doesn't. She looks at him, eyes questioning, examining him as if he were her opponet. Always challenging one another, aren't they? Jaime reaches out, fingers grabbing for her hand, and he lifts her knuckles to his lips. He brushes a soft kiss over her middle knuckle, over a scar that cuts through the skin. Despite the conversation, Jaime takes great joy in watching her shiver.

 

Brienne stares for a moment longer, and then speaks with conviction that she's used a seldom few times with Jaime. He remembers the night in the courtyard in Winterfell, flashing back to it as if it were yesterday.

 

_You're not your sister. You're not. You're a good man, and you can't save her._

 

' Nearly three years ago, you rode into Kings Landing. You, Arya Stark, and Sandor Clegane devised a plan to sneak into the castle walls and infiltrate the Red Keep. Your sister was in the middle of an escape, attempting to make Daenerys Targaryen look like a tyrant. You intercepted her, and after convincing her that you had come to save her, you wrapped your hand around her throat and choked her to death, ' It sounds very much historical and monumental when said like that, but Jaime felt pure agony and terror watching the life leave the eyes of someone that he thought he would love forever. Cersei was a disease, a festering wound that he felt he could not cut off and he was sure would be the death of him. Yet, she choked and death took her soul all the same, and here he lay.

 

Brienne's hands frame his face, snapping him from his thoughts, and his eyes once again find hers. It feels like a spitting image of many times prior, she lifts him from the depths so he can breathe again. Rising from the ashes, reborn entirely.

 

' She is dead. She is not coming back. You are here with me, and that is enough. '

 

Jaime knows this fact, but Cersei still is a part of him; a part he may never be able to remove. But here, now, Jaime knows more than anything he's loved, truly. For everything he is, good and bad, and for everything he can continue to become. Gods, and did he love this woman for her unwavering stubbornness and belief in him. Without her, Jaime would surely be dead if not worse. Brienne has done everything for him, and he has done so little. His throat closes, emotions rising that always seem to come to a head with Brienne. Jaime Lannister always has something to say, until she takes the words from his mouth and makes them her own. A good thing, too, he's horrible with words. Actions, however, are a different story. He shuffles a little closer, feeling their skin touch and warm. Brienne seems a little shocked at the contact, but then inevitably smiles.

 

' Thank you, ' It's unworthy and tarnished in comparison to her words, but the sentiment rings true all the same. The room falls quiet for a moment, they sit just breathing together, and Jaime thinks that perhaps he may fall back to sleep. Movement breaks the moment, and it takes him a moment to realize what it is. Brienne.

 

More specifically, her fingers -- calloused and yet gentle run across his jaw.

 

' Your beard is coming back in, ' Brienne attempts to make it casual, but it has an edge. It unties something within him, loosening his mind up and relaxing his spine. Suddenly Jaime feels he sipped a bit too much wine, and he gently rubs his stubble against her fingertips.

 

' It seems it is. Do I detect some glee at the aspect? ' His grin is wolfish and he knows it, and Brienne gives him an exasperated look, but the blush on her cheeks betrays her.

 

' _Please_ , you detect none of the sort. I was just merely pointing it out, ' A laugh springs from Jaime's throat, low and soft in the dark, hot between them as he holds her eye contact.

 

' Are you saying you don't find me handsome, Ser? Do I not please you to look at? ' He pushes, the smug tone lacing his voice causing Brienne to move her hand, fingers pressing gently over Jaime's mouth.

 

' Silence! ' She whispers with humor, attempting to conceal that she finds him to be funny. Jaime hums a little, opening his mouth to nip at her fingertip. Brienne makes a small noise that Jaime _definitely_ laughs a bit too much at and her fingers jab into his side in retaliation.

 

' Mercy, my lady! Have mercy on me, ' Brienne only scoffs in response, stopping her assault of his sides. A beat of silence passes, and then Jaime's smile returns, ' but you never did deny that you thought I was handsome. '

 

Brienne groans, but Jaime cuts her off with a kiss. And then another. His left hand wraps over her waist, pushing her closer to press against him. Her naked breasts against his chest and Jaime's breath is pulled completely from his lungs. The feeling of her, warm and solid and strong against him feels like a balm for any ache he's ever had. His teeth nip at her bottom lip, feeling them part for him with a small gasp, and his tongue slides along the inside of her lip. Jaime feels impatience stab inside him, wanting to take her mouth for his own, but it's not the game they play.

 

Cat and mouse, and Jaime intends to chase. He licks along the parting of her lips, just the smallest press and he feels her nails dig into his shoulders. He makes an attempt to pull back, to break their kisses but the strength of Brienne is not to be undermined. She holds him there, against her, pushing forward into his mouth. _Her_ tongue pushes into his mouth, deepening the kiss, and Jaime groans like an animal unleashed. The heat of her body and the feeling of her closeness nearly singes him every place they touch. He pants, attempting to regain his awareness to take control back in the moment. Brienne does not back down from a challenge.

 

After the previous years of nights spent together, they're now all too conscious of each other. The physicality of each other's bodies, the places to touch and to kiss, Jaime had memorized them all. Yet he feels unabashedly thirsty, constantly _craving_ \-- always counting the moments until the next time Jaime can gorge himself on her affections. It feels like it's never enough, like chasing the thrill of a fight. And it certainly was a fight, wasn't it?

 

His teeth nip at Brienne's lip, more forward this time, putting a tad more pressure. Brienne moans, the sound warming Jaime's soul and chasing the night terrors from his mind. Her hand runs down Jaime's back, fingernails dragging across his skin and he hisses with the sting. Jaime attempts to push himself up, trying to convince Brienne to lie back but she chooses to surge upward, pushing _Jaime_ back onto the bed that leaves him breathless.

 

Their eyes meet yet again, earth to sky. Her gaze burns so deep that Jaime can feel it all over his body, feeling the tension build between them like it always has. Every time he looks at her, it feels like the first time -- where he can see that she _sees him_ , that she _loves him_ , and Jaime nearly trembles from her sight alone.

 

' Come here, ' It feels like he can barely get it out, his left hand resting on her hip, different now -- less playful, more tender. He gently grips her, pulling her forward, tugging her toward him. Jaime glances up, to see if she perceived his meaning, and the flush on Brienne's cheeks is more than enough proof.

 

When they had first slept together, Brienne was awkward and bashful and beautiful. At one time, she may have been timid. This, however, was not one of those times. Brienne straightens, like she's preparing herself for the impact of a battle, and then moves up his body so her thighs are on either side of Jaime's head. A thrill runs up his spine as he sees her, tall and beautiful above him -- he is completely at her mercy, and there's nothing else he likes more. The delicious vulnerability makes his skin feel too hot, his cock throbbing between his legs.

 

Brienne is surely as close to the Gods as one can be, and Jaime is the fool who gets lucky enough to worship her.

 

Fingers weave into Jaime's hair, gentle and loving, but then grip and he gasps. It's a demand to listen, to _pay attention_ , and Jaime is more than in the moment now. His heart beats unevenly in his chest, his mind in the pleasant haze of lust. It reminds him, distantly, of when she first pulled his hair and forced Jaime to hold eye contact with her. She does so now, eyes bright and sharper than any knife, challenging him.

 

' Do you yield? ' She asks, voice like a whip, and Jaime nearly groans with the desperation that floods him. _That_ was certainly a thing to say. He swallows around his dry throat, not trusting his voice, then he nods. Brienne moves, confident, pushing her cunt against his mouth and Jaime immediately meets her with his tongue, tasting the saltiness of her arousal. She pulls his hair to angle his jaw, to push his mouth where she wants it, and Jaime's tongue flicks across her clit.

 

Brienne moans, pushing her hips against him to repeat it, and her pleasure feels like a hot blade slicing through Jaime. He groans, just listening to her, feeling her push against him. She's hot, and slick, and all Jaime can do -- _wants to do_ \-- is have her do this forever. Her face is flushed, and her back is arching and he sees the long column of her pale throat as her head drops back. Her moans increase in pitch, echoing off the stone and into his ears. He feels fevered, licking more indulgently, pushing against her to taste the musky sweetness. Her hips have set a brutal pace, and Jaime doesn't intend to disappoint her.

 

He sucks at her clit, groaning as he sees her thighs jump at the edges of his vision, hearing her wail as he sucks harder. She finally leans back to make eye contact with him, and her face is blotchy with pleasure, but the warmth of her adoration he feels to his bones. Jaime licks and toys with her, feeling her body tremble in sensitivity, and he would most definitely be smirking if he had the option to.

 

' Jaime, ' Brienne breathes, heady and heavy with lust, and Jaime sucks at her again. She trembles, moaning loudly as her grip on his hair becomes painfully tight. He watches as her brows push together -- but the warmth of her gaze doesn't leave, the love doesn't, the intensity of it almost makes Jaime want to close his eyes. But he can't, because if he does, he'll have to stop looking at her and Gods, he doesn't want to stop _looking_.

 

She comes with a wail of his name so loud it makes his ears ring, and he feels her pleasure echo through him. Jaime hears the sounds of Brienne trying to catch her breath, and he feels contented for a moment, the world seeming to fall quiet. Then his cock throbs in earnest, nearly painful, and he finds that he is also short of breath. His need suddenly blooms like nightshade in his stomach, hips twitching in impatience. Jaime thinks that perhaps now is his chance to take the reigns, but Brienne recovers faster than him. She shifts back, moving to straddle Jaime's hips. Her hands trap him, pushing him against the bed, nails digging a little so he can feel her grip.

 

' You yielded, Ser Jaime, ' Her voice is all careful warning with a heat behind the words that makes his skin tingle, ' are you going back on your word? '

 

' Of course not, Ser Brienne, ' His voice is breathless, half caught in his lungs, but the playfulness is there. Brienne leans down to kiss along his jaw, parting her lips to suck at his neck, teeth nipping. His blood boils hot in his veins, body humming with need, and Brienne is taking her time. It's meant to get under his skin, and it does -- she's attempting to push him to the end of his patience, and yes, _perhaps he is_ \--

 

Warm, sure fingers wrap around his cock, pulling all the air from his lungs. Brienne uses her other hand to balance herself as she guides him to her entrance, and then uses the leverage of her other hand to push down onto him. Jaime nearly chokes on his moan, the heat and tightness is so sudden that it consumes him. Brienne makes a breathless noise as she spreads her thighs wider so she can set a pace.

 

Jaime would never dare admit that he struggled with her stamina, but in this moment he definitely feel how much more in control she is. She's moaning and flushed and absolutely gorgeous and not faltering at all. Meanwhile, he feels her, the wet cling of her around him nearly making his whole body feel as if he was dipped in dragon fire and set ablaze. His moans are just as loud as hers, he can hear them echoing, yet he can't feel it in himself to be shameful. Brienne is starting to become just as loud, and Jaime feels her beginning to clench more tightly around him. The heat of it is burning a path up his spine, the sensations almost too much. He feels nearly over sensitive, the pleasure is so good it makes him feel like it clouds his senses. The only thing he can think of, hear, feel, taste is Brienne. She's the world, and all its gold, and the stars -- fuck the Gods.

 

' Brienne, ' He gasps, feeling the tension building like a rope getting ready to snap. His hand grips her thigh, fingers digging into the soft skin there. Brienne moans his name, pace starting to become erratic as she attempts to speed up, chasing her release. It only takes a few more movements from her before Jaime groans with his release, hips thrusting up to chase the feeling. All the blood pounds through his body and Brienne is trembling atop him, now leaning forward on shaky legs, mouth finding Jaime's.

 

Their share breath and after a few long kisses, Jaime begins to laugh and so does she. He feels like a boy again, getting into trouble and praying his father doesn't catch him. Brienne pulls away a little and he watches her, sees her lashes flutter and looks at the smoothness of her skin in the moonlight. His free hand strokes up and down her side, a grounding touch, for him to wane himself back into reality. She catches his gaze again and gives a small smile, her lips twitching up.

 

' What are you looking at? ' She asks, still a little breathless.

 

_Everything._

 

' You, ' He responds. She simply pushes on his chest a little, adverting her gaze as if she finds him ridiculous. Jaime laughs again quietly, feeling utterly at peace. Then exhaustion creeps into his mind like shadows in moonlight. He suddenly yawns and Brienne covers her mouth to stifle what most  _definitely_ is a laugh. Jaime reaches and pinches her side, and her laugh erupts from her throat. He can't help but mirror it with his own. 

 

' See what you've done? You tire me, wench, '  _I love you_ , he means, and she knows; she's always known.

 

' Perhaps if you were a bit younger, you could keep up, ' _I love you,_ _too,_ she means. 

 

When she settles next to him, pressing herself into the crook of his neck, Jaime strokes her spine until she falls asleep. When his dreams take him again, the darkness subsides and is instead replaced with the ocean so blue that it shines like sapphires.


End file.
